The Marsh

From the beginning (formatted for web viewing)

(CLAIRE and her daughter, KELLY, are in Claire’s car, which has broken down outside Flagstaff, Arizona, on Lake Mary Road.)

KELLY: Did you plan for the car to break down here Mom?

CLAIRE: Well, at least we can sit by the lake while we wait for AAA. It’s beautiful. Look how much more water there is this year.

KELLY: No thank you. I’ll just wait in the car.

CLAIRE: For two hours? It’ll take AAA forever to get here. (KELLY glares at CLAIRE.) Oh my god. (Beat.) It wasn’t here. It was at Marshall Lake!

KELLY: Which is what? A mile away?

CLAIRE: Don’t start, Kelly.

KELLY: You just left me there!

CLAIRE: I did not!

KELLY: Yes you did! You abandoned me!

CLAIRE: I was coming back, Kelly!

KELLY: Oh sure!

CLAIRE: I thought you were right behind me!

KELLY: I was yelling for you!

CLAIRE: I thought you were just upset!

KELLY: I was upset! The goose had me on the ground! … Wicked. Wicked mother. Why did I even listen to you? Oh, we’ll be fine. I’m standing there behind the yellow caution strip, and there you are, marching right into the goose’s lair. I mean, there are signs all around. “Caution: nesting goose. May be aggressive.” But you—oh you—you step right over the caution tape. Walk right in—right into the goose’s lair. I knew better. But you, oh no, you, you keep beckoning and beckoning…(continued…)